


Deal Makers and Heart Breakers

by Newtdew25



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Exhibitionism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Infidelity, Jack and Crutchie and Race are only mentioned, M/M, Multi, Negotiations, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sort Of, referenced relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtdew25/pseuds/Newtdew25
Summary: With the rally looming and Jack out of commission, David takes matters into his own hands and has an audience with Spot Conlon himself. When he proposes that Brooklyn attend the rally, it becomes clear that he will have to give Spot more than his word to convince him.





	Deal Makers and Heart Breakers

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken inspiration from the 1992 movie to create Spot's outfit, although the base of it is still effectively the Broadway version. The movie also served as inspiration for the main setting: the docks of Brooklyn.
> 
> I also may extend this fic or create a part two. Will it happen? Only time will tell.

“So for the sake of all the newsies of New York, I ask you, Spot Conlon, to lead your borough and join the strike rally tomorrow night at the theatre at Irving Place and East 15th Street in Manhattan.”

David looked up meekly at the crate where Spot was sitting, trying to read his expression. The stories that he’d overheard in the lodging house paled in comparison to coming face to face with the leader of Brooklyn himself. A certain regality emanated from Spot despite him looking more like a stable boy than a monarch. The cane he wielded was his scepter and the key around his neck was his cloak. Instead of rolling hills and foreign lands, the docks and alleyways of the borough were his kingdom. Spot, however, had one thing perfectly in common with the rulers of old; the ability to make men crumble with a single look.

Spot’s piercing eyes were fixed on David’s as he came down from his throne of boxes. The boards of the dock creaked under his feet, as if they bore the entirety of Spot Conlon; his secrets, plans, and prestige. “If this is so important,” he drawled, his words smooth and calculated. “why did Jackie boy send me some schoolboy messenger instead of asking me himself?” Although he was sure he didn’t twitch, David knew that Spot could read his nervousness just as easily as a morning headline. “Jack’s speaking with Sniper over in Richmond, so I came here on his behalf.”

The sounds of gulls screeching in the air and waves crashing against the pier were broken by a sharp bark from Spot. “Really? Didn’t know Sniper could be in two places at once considering a little birdie told me he’s just left the Bronx.” Spot’s grin could have been a tell, or it could have been his smugness for knowing the truth; David wouldn’t have been able to say which. It was painfully clear, however, that they both knew that the great Jack Kelly had disappeared behind the doors of the New York World Building.

He leaned away as the other boy came up to him, cane punctuating his steps. “David, wasn’t it?” Without waiting for a response, he continued. “Tell me, what’s in it for me and my boys? We can find other jobs ‘round here. Work the docks, run bets down at Sheepshead, we Brooklynites always got another way. I did hear about your little rumble though. You think just ‘cause you raise a little hell that you own New York?”

In a fit of anger, David shoved Spot away from him. “This isn’t about Manhattan, Spot. It isn’t about Brooklyn, or Richmond, or any other borough. This is about respect, something I figured you would know a lot about. We’re making a stand, showing that we won’t let Pulitzer and the newspaper giants shove us to the ground and treat us like means to an end!”

He felt his heart thumping against his chest, his fists clenched at his sides. Watching his friends being beaten down, his brother almost stomped by the officers he had long been taught to respect had unchained something inside David. Sometimes, he would have to stand his ground and fight with more than words. An inner voice told him that this may be one of those times.

Raising his eyes to Spot’s, David willed himself to straighten his back and puff out his chest, much like how Jack stood before rallying the newsies to Pulitzer’s door. For what it was worth, Spot relaxed his stance and met David’s gaze. “You really are the Walking Mouth, aren’t you? And I thought Race wouldn’t shut his trap.” Spot gestured for David to follow him as he strolled back into the cobblestone alley that separated the dock from the streets. In the dark of the pathway, David noticed how the light from the streetlamps reflected off of Spot’s key and cane, creating little patches of brightness along the filthy brick walls.

With one clean motion, Spot swung his cane around and used it to pin David against one of the crates, the wood cracking with the force. “I’ll cut you a deal, Dave, one that’ll help us both. You put that mouth of yours to good use, and I’ll consider joining your rally.” As David started to protest, Spot pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t think I don’t know why you, Jack, and Crutchie head down to the Bowery after dark. Race and I sometimes go for the same thing. Our little sins stay between us, got it?” After the explanation, David eased up enough for Spot to lower his cane without fearing that he would run off.

“Now, do I gotta walk you through this or what?” Spot asked as he and David switched positions. The red on David’s face was clear even in the dim light from the opening of the alley. “Usually, it’s Jack or Crutchie who does it, so I think I could use a few pointers.” Spot whistled quietly as he let his suspenders hang slack around his waist. “Never thought Jackie boy would submit to anyone, least of all to the likes of you.” After giving him a pointed look, David quickly scanned the area around them. He’d promised his parents that he’d been organizing the rally with some of the other newsies; Mayer had raised him to tell the truth, and technically, he did.

_“My methods are just a bit less conventional.”_

True to Spot’s observations, David had indeed been to the seedier parts of Manhattan with Jack. His newfound friend had insisted on giving him “a real education,” whisking him through gritty saloons and rickety dance halls. They had dabbled in cheap spirits and had stumbled through the streets hand-in-hand by lamplight. On some nights, Crutchie had joined them as well, revealing to David that the younger boy was much more than a pretty face and a cheery smile. Crutches, he learned, for more than useful for fending off potential thieves in the night. There was a part of David that now feared Crutchie, although that fear was also tinged with awe. The memory only made him miss the other boy more.

With a quiet breath, David knelt down before him, brushing off the ground before settling himself. Once again, he couldn’t read Spot’s expression. Perhaps this was just some form of humiliation for him. Were there newsies waiting to mock, or worse, soak him? There were always those who frowned upon those he’d heard a street preacher refer to as “sinful queers.” It wasn’t a secret that most of the boys back in Manhattan had no problem with guys loving other guys, but was that the case in Brooklyn? He had always tried to see the best in people, but Spot Conlon was, until today, nothing but a rumour, a legend, a mystery. How do you find the best in someone you’ve never known?

_“Still, he admitted to being with Race. If anything, now I know why he always comes here on ‘business.’”_

“I know you said that Jack and Crutchie did this more than you do, but do I really gotta tell you what comes next?” Spot’s question wasn’t quite rude, but it wasn’t gentle either. David mumbled an apology as he tugged at Spot’s trousers. The thick summer air had led to many of the newsies shedding sleeves and layers when they went off to work. If David didn’t already know that he preferred the company of men, the past month certainly made that clear. Still, it was a bit of a surprise when he found that Spot had no other layers on under his pants.

His gasp must have been louder than he thought because Spot scoffed down at him. “I was about to go for a swim when you showed up. Didn’t have time to put on my Sunday clothes.” David figured that this wasn’t the time to lecture the leader of Brooklyn on the difference between Christianity and Judaism, so he ignored the comment. He took Spot’s dick into his hand and gave it a few hesitant strokes. When he was with Jack and Crutchie, the mood was more lighthearted and, dare he say, romantic. This, however, was business, so David just sighed and got to work.

_“I can’t believe the future of the union is resting on me going down on Spot Conlon.”_

The situation had proceeded just as David had expected; his mouth was around Spot, who was holding onto his hair. Apart from the occasional obscene sound or groan from Spot, the air was silent. It was only when he heard the other boy breathing more heavily that David decided to look up. “Did I do something wrong?” David asked, only for Spot to pull on his hair again.

“Please,” he gasped out, his eyes uncharacteristically wide and desperate. “Don’t stop.”

Obliging, David got back down and held onto Spot’s thighs. There was one thrust, two, and with a third, Spot came down his throat. The taste wasn’t exactly foreign to David, seeing as he, Jack, and Crutchie shared a few kisses after their nights in the Bowery, but it was his first time having this much at once. Despite his best efforts to swallow it all, he had to pull off for air, the rest of Spot’s cum splattering on his lips.

He reached up to clean off his face, but his hand was intercepted by Spot, who used his other hand to wipe David’s face. After a quiet moment, Spot took his hand back, licking his own cum off his fingers. David stared in shock, unsure of what to say. “I guess the walking mouth is at a loss for words?” Spot chuckled, as if nothing had happened. “Do you need some help with that there?”

            Looking down, David realized that his own trousers had become uncomfortably tight. He nodded, not trusting his voice to stay together. With a knowing look, Spot stripped out of his undershirt and gave it to David before pushing him to the ground. As he stuffed the shirt under his head, David held his breath as Spot’s fingers nimbly unbuttoned his vest. Pushing the suspenders off of David’s shoulders, Spot looked up at him as he tugged down his pants. “Remember, Mouth, this stays between us, right?”

            “A-Agreed.”

            Spot Conlon went down on David the same way he did anything; with force and dominance. His hands clamped down on David’s body as he bobbed his head, not caring for how loud either of them were being. David was pretty sure that if someone were to walk in on them right now, Spot would get up, soak the living daylights out of them, then get right back to sucking him off.

            Speaking of which, Spot had let go of one of David’s arms so that he could stroke as he sucked. David had taken the opportunity to grab onto Spot’s head and push him down further. There was something intoxicating about the shift in power, the ability to control those normally in charge. Spot Conlon may be the king of Brooklyn, but right now, he was at David’s mercy.

            “Ah, Spot…” he sighed out, tilting his head back. The other boy’s tongue lapped over the head, his eyes blazing with mischief. Spot definitely knew what he was doing; a dark part of David wondered if he’d gotten his practice with Race. With another squeeze from Spot, David finished into his mouth, quietly moaning under his breath. When he’d managed to control his breathing, he looked up at the other boy, who quickly turned away.

            They fixed themselves in relative silence, their individual noises muffled by the sounds of a ship unloading in the distance. David reminded himself to dismiss the dirt on his clothes as the result of him tripping on the Brooklyn Bridge. Beside him, Spot was somewhat hunched with his hands in his pockets. The mighty king, in his privacy, had let down his guard fully. Away from the eyes of his followers, Spot shed his bravado to reveal his human tiredness. Yet, in the dim light, David could see a faint smile on his face.

            “Here’s your shirt,” he offered, trying to brush off some of the dirt. Spot took it back, but didn’t put it on. “I still plan on swimming, Mouth. I’d invite you, but you’ve got a rally to plan, don’t you?” David felt himself blush again as he searched for the words to respond. “Just leave some seats empty for Brooklyn, yeah?”

            Spot had spit into his hand, expecting David to follow suit. Taking a page from his book, David cupped Spot’s chin in his hand and ran his thumb over the other boy’s lips. Ignoring the confused groan, he cleaned off the bit of cum left on his flesh. Surprising both Spot and himself, David licked his thumb clean, keeping his gaze on the other’s.

            “Pleasure doing business with you, Spot Conlon,” he concluded as he lowered his hands. With a curt nod, Spot turned to leave. “You too, David.”

///

            It was only when he was crossing the Brooklyn Bridge that David let out a breath that he’d been holding ever since he’d parted ways with Spot. He was sure that Race, Specs, and the others would be thrilled that the newsies of Brooklyn would join their ranks. All he could hope for was that whatever scheme Jack had planned would work out. He’d certainly done his share of the organizing work.

            Hell, he might have even enjoyed it a little bit too.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments or kudos would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
